mynd The strauÌ„ger shows a courtiers part it comes from gentill minde With dutie done the Lady graunts vnto her Ladies will That in her stead doth wish he had of wayting full his fill Ariodant abideth nâ—we in his appointed place But fearfulnes compels him hyde his blushing bashfull face Till that the Princes past the place where lurking he did stay She is scarce gone when secretly the Lady he doth pray Once more in stéede of her to wayte and cariage for â—o haue Of paayer booke she graunts it him he hath that he did craue Then secretly the fearfull man doth prie within the booke The scrowle he finds takes it out he cannot therin looke For feruent ioye he puts it vp she is now come to pewe He geues y booke with blushing face his Lady that doth vewe Her smiling chere bids him farwell his hastie foote doth part These frendly looks which after that for euer lodge in hart This longing louer is aryud at chamber now in hast He opes y scrowle word for word he findes in order plast As erst I could he heues his handes and streacht out armes to skies His clothes he bathes with gushing teares that run from swelling eyes His ioye is in her secretnes that myndes not to disclose His preferd loue as by thappointted place he doth suppose For though quoth he the answere be not as my fansie would Yet by this meanes to show my mynd no doubt I may be bould And though she now doth light estéeme and will not heare my plaint In tract of time my fittes I trust her stony hart may taint For rust in tyme will canker in the gad of sturdy stéele And littel worme in tract of tyme doth make the Oke to reele In time by droppes of raynie dew the fiâ—ie â—â—int doth freat In time also the beating sea the ruggie rock doth eate And may not then in time my sobbes and teares from drowned eyes Pearse gentil hart whose nature is to rule on wofull cryes Besidâ— if lookes may moue me think my loue she doth requite I' neede no greater proofe then that wherof I late had sight For did not colour chaunge in face when she beheld me fast First read as any Rose in May and pale agayne at last Some say that these be arguments of vext and troubled minde And sonest séene in louers face as I in writers finde But why doo I thus spend the time in dought and doughtfull toyes When answer seen and once perusd may ease perhaps annoyes And ther withall like gréedy wolfe nye sterued for his pray He â—eaues his talke and hastelie to gardin takes the way Where priuely at bidden place he séekes with curious eyes The answer which his Ladie did for him of late deuyse The ioyfull man hath found it out his labour now is don He leaues the gardin for that nyght he doth to lodging runne Wher carefully he doth vnfould the letter closâ—â—ie seald And readeth eke by surcumstance that was by dreame reueald And as I sayd how she extolles his shape vnto the skyes And how of her renoumed grace she basely can deuise Then how she rewes y scorching fits which he so long hath felt And then as touching her ill rest how loue with her hath delt Next that her wyse perswasion he with leaping hart doth réede Then fiâ—ed faith and plighted troath till death doth craue his méed Oh happy newes oh ioyfull liues oh sentence glad pronounst That makes hâ— seke for rauisht wits that so in cares wast trounst Come helpe yâ— Mountain Ladies al and leaue Pernassus hill Come help me with your sugred stile my charge for to fulfill And thou oh Spring of eloquence come helpe to guyde my hand That rudely doth presume to write in verse but grosly scand Of ioyes that had their ginning first of black and lothsome fittes Come helpe therfore Apollo thou to wheat my dulled wittes And help oh knights of Cupidâ— crew on whom â—ame Uenus smiles To write of blisse and more the ioye that floudes of cares exiles For your report must make my skill by prouâ—e I nought can write Of ioyes although y more my ruth of cares I can indight But sith the listing eare doth wayte to heare howe he doth fare That late receiud these gladsome newes such wynde I now will spare And sith both Musts Gods and Men disdayne to rue my plaint You must with baser verse my lords your learned heads acquaint Therfore when hungrie eyes had 〈◊〉 long tyme on pleasant newes And gladnes bad his pining corse sâ—â—h mourning to refuse With bowed knee his ioyned handes to hautie heauen he houldes And then vnto the mightie Ioue he thus his mynd vnfouldes Perpetuall prayse immortall God that all of nought didst frame Be dewe to thée and lasting grace be geuen vnto thy name That from the toppe of hiest heauen to déepest vale belowe Dost like a gentell Sauior on me such pitie showe Whose sinfull deeds doo dayly moue thy godly mynde to yre And purchase eke by iust desert the paynes of dreadfull fyre Thy goodnes Lord no â—ong can tell ne head can well deuise No pâ— can paint such worthy prayse as may thy deede suffise My hart vnable is to think tâ—y goodnes showd to mee That with thy might hast socourd one quite drownd in miserie For was not I the wofulst wretch that liued vnder skyes Consumd with care nye chockt with sobbes besprent with teares and cryes And now who liues in greater blisse who now more happier wight Whose fate doth fortune fauor more or who in better plight Wherfore if thou oh mightie Ioue wilt bryng to happie eno This loue begonne which in thy law we mind till death to spend If thou I say as thou dost knowe the secrets of my hart Be quite from guyle fardest from the sinne that asketh smart Wilt turne our former passions of vile consuming care To lasting ioye and perfect â— lisse and graunt to vs the share Of spousals rights which more then goods or friends or life I loue I vow by all that earst thou framdst in earth and heauen aboue By this my soule I vow I sweare I firmly doo protest To loueâ— to dread and serue thée lord whylst lyfe lodge in my brest This vow he made and vp he starts he feeles he thinks no ground His limmes that earst for weaknes bowd in strength do now abound His mynde runnes on Ieneuora and of hir worthy hew He giues to hir the chiefest prayse of all fayre bewties crewe He thinkes now of the courteous lines whiche she to him did sende He reades them till by hart eche worde he knowes and then doth rende The paper least by some mishappe the letter lost and founde Mought turne to his decaye and hers to whome he chiefe is bounde Now thinkes he of the ioyfull place whiche she did late inuent Where he with sight of her his ioye his minde he mought content Against which time he deckes himselfe with sutes
craue his aide with forced might to yelde to him againe The place which he by right should haue which others now doo gayne therwith ould Slumber gan imploy with careful mynd his might To conquer Hope or els to dye himselfe amidst the fight And with his Ingin he doth scale the fort but meanly mande And through the wall doth make a way for to conduct his bande This seene poore Hope as vanquisht man not able to defende Him from the whyrling dartes that Sléepe about his cares doth sende Doth yelde himselfe cendicionally that next to Slumber hée Within his batterd castell may be second in degrée The conquerour doth graunt here to poore Hope is peakte away And now doth Dreame amidst the presse his drowsie part well playe But Night that is the generall of all this sâ—â—ggish crewe Gan from the fardest Orient â—â—ast the mornyng playnly vewe Then least he should to long abide he seuds the Herault out The Oule y with her croked trump cries Retreat to the rout Wherby the armie leaues the land and flittes to Leathian seas Wher they abide till Night againe shall yeld them former ease The cocke Auroras messenger sends foorth from stretched throte With flâ—ckring wings roused lym his cherefull mornings note Hope heer 's this sound theÌ„ he know his foe is fledde away Wherfore within his secret caue no longer he can stay But to his former crased fort with hastie foote he plies Wher entring in Ariodant doth lie before his eyes Who was one of his souldiers when that sleape did geue the foyle And taken eke a prisoner as he for Hope did toyle But by good hay no harme he had saue only in his headâ— A littell scarre of fond dispayre that drousie Dreame had made Him Hope doth comfort as he can and with a lustie cheare No hâ—rme qd he dismay thée not discharge this filthy feare Herewith the séely crased man doth leaue his easie bed And hath concluded secreatly within his vexed head To leaue the Duke and to returnâ— vnto the court agayne Least by his still abiding there the Duke mought seeke a meane To searcâ—e of him the truth herein which though he loth to showe yet mought such wordâ— procéed vnwares as therby harme mought grow Wherforeâ— when Duke of Albany had left his chambers rest Ariodant with bowed knée gan of his grace request For to depart his license anâ— his fauour for to haue And he thogh with vnwilling mind doth graunt that he doth craue Thus leaues the straunger Polinesse and he with spéed to court Doth plie againe for to renewe his fourmer ioye and spourt yet can he not by any meanes the sight of showed ring Forget though hope with pleasant wordes good signes of ioye doth bring By this he is aryude amongst the crewe of Courtiers stout That ioye to sée him safe retournde among that lusâ—y rought His brother eke Lurcanio inforst by course of kynde Doth welcome home Ariodant with ioyfull pleasant mynde And of such iestes as happened since he did leaue the court Unto his brothers lustinge eares he makes along report But he this carefull louer that is ny caught with dispayre Doth somon all his wittes at once to helpe in this affayre And sith vpon two fickell pointes his present state dependes To take aduise or he beginnes his wyly head intendes I Nede not now for to recount what guyle Duke polynesse Did vse with Princes Dyamond tannoy his hidden gesse Nor how â—e faild â—f his intent â—e of the diuerse talke That now from Polinessos lippes and now from straungers walke but al you know my Lords how y Ariodant did feare That this was the selfe Dyamond he gaue his Ladie deare which fere so toâ—t his troubled brain that as a man forâ—orne He shuns eche youthfull companie and life he had in scorne To ease these fittes two only wayes this carefull louer spies Wherof as present state did craue he gan this to deuise Firstly thinks he if with my pen I causles should accuse Or els in presence by complaint I blameles should abuse The Princes grace to whom I must accombt me chiefly â—ound Whose zelous mynd except I faile I faithfull oft haue found If that I shuld once moue I say these doughtfull thoughts of myne Under her grace by letters sent or els before her eyne For to aâ—cuse her troth vnknowne then let vs sée the ende Hereof and to what passe our taunting tale would tend At first as well she mought in dede she should bestow on me At fond suspecting louers name and most vntrue to be That at the sight of euery toye would take occasion To blame her troth and eke to liuâ— in vile suspicion Then after that for to withdraw her loue so euell employd And eke repent that such an one so long hath it enioyd Which if these â—ies shâ—ld once behold these hands with bloudie knife Sâ—uld take reuenge vpon my tonguâ— by ridding of my lyfe And if she grâ—untâ— as vile dispayre perswades me for to deeme I mean that she doth loue this Dukâ— and euell of me estéeme If this she say what then tell me what 's then our remedyâ— In faith by corâ—â—es bane or corâ— to die in misery Againe if to my self I should these secrets sole impart Lett es sée if this may change our 〈◊〉 or els our cares conuert This charge qd he to make the salue that cures the burning wâ—und Tasswage the humors cold that dotâ— the patient â—ye confound As hard iâ— is â—o ease the wight with freting furious meat Whom feâ—â—rs force continually to â—â—â—ning bones doth eate So hard it is that silence which augments my misery Shuld salue y sore which nothing elâ— but talke can remedy For see as belching poyson broyles within the panting brest And scorching heat conuerts y helth to most vnquiâ—t rest So do the cares of veâ—ed mynd consume the crased hart Tyll by disclosing of his griefe he findes to ease his smart But if as this my case doth stand be wraying bringeth death T weare better thus to proue the end then for to wast my breath They say that corsy ministred vnto them poysoned corse Will coole the fearse contagious heâ—t and quench the burning force Why may not theÌ„ the troubled mind by silent tongue annoy That health which silence banisheth and doth the hart enioy For if my doubtes be false indéed and she doth loue me still What then but silence can preuayle and bridell lauish will. And if she vse me for disport and scornes my proferd loue The knowledge of the troth therin a desperate death doth moue Wheras if yet my loue cannot within her hart preuayle yet silence truth and tract of time hereafter may auayle Wherfore as reason séemes â—â—grâ—â— vnto a secret hart So from these lips those leud coÌ„ceitâ— I mynd shall not depart But as before the newes I hard so now amidst the crewe Of courtly dames my wonted sportâ— I will forthwith renewe This last
beates And flies to towne both farre and 〈◊〉 and nowe ascendes againe And putteth fame to wâ—rie tâ—yle and to an endles payne But to returne the king is hoâ—st that doth for werâ—es Leaue of the chase 〈◊〉 homeward all theyr diuers happes eâ—presse Thus talking are these hunters â—â—me vnto the Paâ—â—as gates Where eche disarmes his werie boneâ— and welcomes home his mates There nought is talkt within the Court but of the straungers might And how he nobliâ— saude their liege and kild his foe in fight The Ladies doo extoll this act vp to the cloudie skies The knightes by heapâ—s of his great strokes doo diuersiy dâ—uise The night renewes his carefull course â—itanis lodgd in west All seeke their soft and quiet bed their wery bones to rest Ariodant that longs to see this long desired Dame Is also coucht in tumbling bed where he records her name A thousand times thus consumes halfe Iunos wanny race And if â—e slâ—pe he dreams strait ways of that most heauenly face The Cock crowes forth his dawning note the day starres showes in east The Nightingale the gladsem tunes sings out with chéerfull brest The courtiers rise that vse disporâ—es as pleaseth best their will Some Hanks reclayme some Coursers ride and some do daunce their fill Some is ye in reading Historiâ—s and seâ—â— in Musikes art Thus time is spent in comly sports as pleaseth best their hart Now is the King at dinner set there waytes Ariodant That is the siemâ—iâ—st of them all and one that noâ—ght doth want Of natures craft by whom the King doth send a couerd mease To Princes faire Ieneuora that is his lifes increase This message doth Ariodant performe in seemliest wies Who knâ—â—ling doth the cates present before her cristâ—ll eyes The Lady thanks the messenger and giues him in reward A costly gem which he receiues but nought he doth regard The gift so much as that her looke which is so fixt in hart That from that time he holds it fast till lyfe from lims doo part And she againe that marked hath so well his comly face His shape his vew his countnance graue and eke his semely grace Sayes in her hart this same is he whom I in brest will shrine Till sisters three with fatall réele my vitall webbe vntwine Thus Venus child hath tainted two with his sharpe persing dart And yet vnknowen to both it is how eche ioyes others hart Ariodant that clokes â— say this hote new kindled fire His dutie done departs agayne with gayne of double hire And makes his wayting very short and thunnes the tast of meate And to his chamber hiâ—ss in hast to coole his scorching heate Ther doth he oft record her talke he sées her similing cheare He sées those colours angellyke hâ— sées her â—listring heare He viewes he thinkes those Rubic libbâ—s that thankt him for his payne He féeles he thinkes those azurd vaynes that gaue him that great gayne But when he sées he is deceiud a thousand sighes departe With flouds of teares and dâ—adly sobbeâ— out from his carefull haâ—t And thus begins a long discours of this new tâ—sted fit Which as I can I shall declare thou Paâ—ias guide my â—it From whence proceedes this â—inching payne and griefes of deadly smart Orelâ— what â—ct hath câ—aunged thus oh soole thy ioyfull hart That thus thou lothst those pleasant sports that here in Court are vse And seekst a drousiâ— caban touch thy wonted myrth refuse Tell what hath made this soden chaunge bewray these griefes of minde The pacient when the wound is gréene a salue doth soonest finde A salue Alasâ— it is booteles wynd Its dâ—ath that must me cure My wound doth festred lye in hart and will till life endure Oh foole that so wert fed with fame such toyle to vndertake For her that nought doth rue thy care ne sorowes none will make For thee and yet shée is the cause that thus thou doest susteine These griping griefes of grisly death which will foraye remayne Oh crâ—ell happe and destenie oh wight vnfortunate Oh catiue vile vnhappe thrise and borne to cruell fate What ioy did take thy idell brayne when thou didst sée her face Thus to be trapt with heapes of griefe in so short time and space Oh Cokadrill of Uenus shape why hast thou thus beguild The wyght that for thy fame him selfe from nature soile exyld But how is that knowen vnto her whom blameles I accuse Or why should I vnciuill beast that worthie shape abuse Whose outward shewe presageth truth and store of courtesie As lately by her great reward was showd sufficiently No no it is he that workes my woe who forceth Kinges to loue That blâ—â—dly shotes his peysned dart from stately throne aboue That Cupide stroke misâ—celes ghost full well I know when I Beheld that goodly countenaunce with two fast persing eye Wherfore his dome I must obey though loue venegall be And though I spend my youthfull dayes in this vile misery This dolefull tale thus â—ould the teares procéede from swelling eyes By streames and now the gréeuous grons increase his wofull cries Now hope reuâ—ues his dying limmes dispayre now driues in death And now doth feare make sences faile and stoppe his vitall breath Thus long he spends a lingring lyfe and craues a happy day Or els he wils by gréedy graue his last fate for to pray But to speake of Ieneuora and to recount her â—ittes And how in closet she doth fare as one berâ—ued of wittes My pen shuld rather meisture want to write that I intend Then store of cares for to dilate that would whole volumes spend For after she had knowen his name and how an aliant borne He was her hart began to coole as one welny forlorne And thus with faultring tounge shée sayd why sekest thou lenger life That by this â—ct deseruest death with point of bloudy knife Oh catiue vyle and vylest wretch that liueth vnder skyes And may not race of Royall bloud thy foolish mynd suffice Nor noble lyne of Scottish soyle wher thou mayst chuse a feare Thy childish will at full content but thou must hold him deare That hath throgh theft exild him selfe or els by murdring hand Estrangd him from his earlish kin and now séeks forren lande Wilt thou assotted be of him that like a wandring slaue Is come vnto thy fathers court some liuelihood to haue What seekst thou to shame thy selfe and to abuse thy kinne And myndst thou thus to purchase hate in hope a slaue to winne A slaue Oh spitefull sting of hate for Ladies farre vnfitte Why doo I thus with poysned words misuse my praysed wit. Why should I terme him felon eke that is so gratious Or els of murder him accuse that is so curteous Whâ— do I liue to call him slaue that is the comliest wight That euer scapte from natures handes or euer past my sight And if that lackt his brothers déede would show his race right well Whose worthie rescue of the King
are donne And secretly in chamber he thus hath his tale begonne What wants ther now Ariodant what is ther now behind What hard attempt is yet vndone or what is in thy mynd Not yet performd thou mayst atcheue and bring vnto an ende Before the greuous gastly grenes thy wofull hart doth rende Behould these eyes of myne haue séene the last of all thy ioye And this vnhappy head to late doth wayle thy great annoy Oh friendles wretch y heuens agrée to sée thy fatall fall And these thy endles dolefull plaints are ioye vnto them all Els had thy folly neuer forst thée to attempt this ioye Which scand iudged indifferently depriues thee of thy ioy Thinkst thou her noble hart caÌ„ brook thy grosse vnegall loue Who for her shape and sâ—melines mought match with Gods aboue Thinkst thou with patiâ—Ì„ce she can vew the foly of thy brayne Whose passing wisdoÌ„ wel approude all earthly wittes doth stayne Thinkst thou to scape without thy hire of him that rules the lant Thinkst thou thy wandring letter sound of all shall not be scand Oh witles wretch when stéed is â—câ—nâ— thou séest what may ensue But when thou meughst thou couldst nâ—t tleÌ„ a preâ—ent harme eschue Oh more then thryse vnhappy wight eche open mouth shall sound To Skies thy shame when thy vile corpse forgot shall lodge in ground Dispatch therfore why stayes thy hand to geue thy hart his meede Whose foolish lust and fond desire was causer of this déede And therwithall he vrew his blade his desperat part to play But reason with hir holsome skyll forst hastie hand to staie Nay rather yeld thou foole quoth she to reasons sound aduise Who greater fits then thou dost féele can cure with a tryse Wilt thou with desperate death deserue the paynes of lasting smart That mayst with eased mynd a whyle finde salue to heale thy hart Perchance thy Ladie doth require thy loue with loue againe Why wilt thou then till troth be knowne with dread increase thy payne Perchance or this her hart hath felt for thee lyke fittes and care Aâ—d truth it is she crased is and heauely doth fare And wait not be that Cupide is a iudge indifferent Who for taâ—gment your ioyes the more doth thus your lymmes torment But loue thou saist vnegall plast is causer of thy care Ah foole and hast thou now forgot how Cupide none will spare And is not King and Kayser perst with his artylerie and knowst thou not how blinded he at ventures lettes it flie Canst thou alone then suffer shame if shame a man mought call An honest loue when worlds of men to loue are hound and thrall Suppose the King might know thy loue what harme can then insue Himselfe or this could hardly shunne the sparkes of Uenus crewe Wherfore let thought be fordest from the bounds of quiet hart And with aduise what 's best to doe these passions set apart Thy Ladie is a gentill Dame her bewtie doth declare Who for to ease thy gréedie minde an answere will not spare Craue once againe the cariage of the booke thou late didst beare And in the cariage search the booke if ought be lodged there Perchaunce as thou didst first inuent so she will now deuise And will her answere ther inclose thy mynde for to suffise These thoughts as Phebus clears the skie from foule infectiue myst Do ease his mynd â— banish thought out from his cloudy brest In western seas swift Phaeâ—on doth plunge his gleaming chayre And in his steed the gliding starres â—oth compasse loftie ayre When in his bed Ariodant doth couch his heauy head In hope to sleape but fanstes newe doo rule in Sopros stead The Princes is to closet gone not rekles of her friend And least her déeds mought be espide the dore is lockt and pynd Then takes she paper pen and Ink and thus writes to her own Take this not as an answere sent from one to thee vnknown But let these lines be guide to thée which way thou mayst attayne Unto my answer craued that doth by Oliue tree remaine Kepayre therfore Ariodant to priuie gardayn where Under the mightie Oliue trée by me lies hidden there That thou didst craue this may suffise at fâ—ll thy longing minde Till more at large at fitter time thou shalt my answer finde This done she takes an other shetâ— of paper which doth serue To answere to his letter sent for which he nie doth sterue Therin she blisseth thryse the tyme when he did tread on ground Of Scottish Realme whose like quoth she in earth can not be found Therin she blisseth eke him selfe that would take such great payne To sée so meane a wight as she in whom doth not remayne Halfe that great prayse which he bestowes on her vnworthy shape Which is the worst that euer did from natures handes escape Then dolefully she doth lament his long sustained woe His pining fittes vnquiet rest his cares she rues also Now is the time when Uenus first did thrall her to her lore Declared eke and care for care she doth requiâ—e and more Now doth she like an Oratres perswade him to be true She vows by Ioue to shun the paths that she wils him eschue What should I say she tels y time she tels the secret place When either other person may without suspect imbrace Untill which time she wished him amendment of his fittes With thousand ioyes which to declare would trouble sore my wittes Well wery hand and watched eye seeke now longe shunned rest As sleape to work thy drousie charme at hand is ready prest This night the glad Ieneuora of sleape receiueth more Then in six months and odde I think she did receiue before Ariodant as Marchant tost with stormes from kenned land That feares by rock or swallowing goulfe his deaths day is at hand Dispayring lies and dreadfull thoughtes oppresse his crased minde And doughting most that battred barke so soone good port should finde Yet as he had concluded he by breake of day doth ryse And in dispite of fortune mindes tachtefe his interpryse Ieneuora though heauy head did craue more golden sleape Is not vnmindfull of her charge ne lenger bedde doth keape But long before Ariodant she doth vnknown arise And with her letter hastely to priuie garden hies And as she had deuised earst within her little scrowle She hides it by the Oliue trée vnknown to any soule That done to warme an easie bed not waking any wight She plies againe and lieth till Aurora geueth light Then vp she startes decks her self with costlie robes of gould Her glistring hear in sumptuous cal the courtly Dames doo â—ould Then close in closet she doth put the scrowle into the booke Which first she made of purpose y her friend theron should looke That done she thus commaundes her maydâ— if he doth come this day That last did beare the booke when I to chappell went to pray And craue the booke agayne of you graune him quoth she his
I sayd so I protest the same not to denie And as vnto the remnant of your last pronounced tale This shall suffice if in your hart my truth may ought auayle Know you my Lord I do confesse the Princes scorneth mée For why a simple courtier I and meanest in degrée Not worthy to be thought vpon in Princes hauty court Whose birth vnknown doth rather séekâ— with meaner match to sport And as I doo confesse the one so firmely I denie That earst I neuer sawe this gemme that thus shines in myne eye Nor neueâ— gaue the like to her as I am subiect true Unto my liege and soueraigne and owe him seruice due Thus I conclude in hope also as I haue plainly toulde The hidden secrets of my hart and as I haue vnfould Nought els but truth as you may triâ— in time to come right well That so you will from doughtfull mynde such straunge câ—nceites expell The Duke that heares with grief the ende of this late coyned taleâ— Amazed stands sith his inteâ—â—â— no better did preuaile Yet minds he sith the straunger was to him but as a gest Not ferder to eramine him but for to let it rest Till that at fitter time he may a better way inuent For to annoy Ariodant and eke him selfe content And therwithall would God qd he I wish for thy behoue That as thou saist so tract of time the truth herein may proue And parting theÌ„ce good night qd he take now thy quiet rest And to your grace god graunt qd he such ease as likes you best Thus is Duke Polinesso come vnto his chamber where Unto a secrete friend of his he geues the ring to beare Unto his friend Dalinda least the Diamond shuld be wanting And so preuent his purpose and turne to her great vndoing Post hast therfore this messenger is prekt with Diamond To court who at the last by happe Dalinda hath out found To whom with thouâ—and thankes he geues the gleaming gemâ— agayne From Polinesso mighty Duke that doth her friend remayne Thus leaue I him that ended hath his message in his best wise And now vnto Ariodant I will my stile deuise When Polinesso vttred had that lurked in his brest And showed had the Diamond vnto his heauy gest When gon he was out of the sight of poore Ariodant Who in his new disquiet mynde ould corsies did not want Then gins the straunger to record the ring which he did sée And fear doth mâ—ke him think besids that ring the same to bee Which he did geue Ieneuora wherfore through euery part Of his distemperd limmes procéede an ake and deadly smart From head and hart doth passe also a could and lothsome sweat And temples both and pulses two refuse their liuely heate His heare right vp his eyes do stare his tâ—th he ioyneth fast Mâ—ch like a man distraught of wits and holsome reason past Sometimes for lacke of breath he lies â—ereud of liuely sprightes And in his rage lyke frantike man his careful head he smyghtes And when his fittes be of least force then with a â—anâ—ing hart Unto himselfe in secret wyse these woords he doth impart Oh deepe discent oh hidden guile oh falshood furie fell Oh cruell spight condemned be thy ghost to lothsome hell That so canst fawn on simple wight with pleasant smilyng chere And with a hart inuenemed to kyll that houlds the deare Oh wretch I skorne the present ioy and eke thy Princely state And happy thrise wer these my eyes to see thy latest fate Consumed be thy cherefull health and sicknes scale thy corse Let sadnes from eche part of thée all pleasure quite deuorse Conuerted he the cristall hewe to foulest colour vyle And all diseases rule in thée when health is in erile for thou oh careles wretch hast forst my limmes that lyude in ioy To taste the most vnquiet rest that any can anoye And as he would haue furder said from stringes of swelled hart A deadly grone proceedes and eke most scorning sobbes depart And therwithall oh death quoth he wreake on my corse thy will Asunder sheare my vitall thréed oh Atrapos doo kill The most vnhappiest creature that treades on sinfull soyle And you oh sisters cut the thread and ease me of this toyle Thus whilst he waies y brightnes of this goodly Diamond Dispairing wise inâ—ectiue feare doth nye his wittes confound But when he doth call vnto mynde what friendly actes haue past Twixt him and his Ieneuora he calles his wittes at last To him and then his lauish tounge he ginnes for to reproue And saies y nought but tride disceit should faithfull friendes so moue And then he gan to dought beside if that same weare the ring That earst was his which Polinessâ— from court with him did bring For though report did blase qd he my gem to be the best yet may an other be as good though secretly it rest And dayly proufe doth teach vs eke where Princes fansie frame There goes away the victory and gayne of greatest name And though it were the ring it self that I did late enioye yet till I know more perfect proufe it shall me not annoy For how can such assured signes of lasting amitie Be ioynd with crabbed craftines and with such subtiltie Did not her letter show to me a louers true intent Did not the passion of her mynde to faithfull lynes consent Did she not vow with drowned eies she lothed filthy â—guyle And did she not perswade me eke to shunne such treason vyle Could this proceed froÌ„ double mynd could heauenly shape inuent Such termes of truth after wards to such disceit consent Can she that since her infancie was traind in Princely court Wher wisdoms lore â— prudeÌ„ce skil is vsed for disport Beare in her hart such fayned truth and vse such subtill witte Or els vpon well meaning wight such spightfull hatred spitte Can craftines finde harborow within so goodly shape when nature serude so worthy corpse could truth from her escape Can double dealing lodge within so worthy creature Who for her passing comelynes gaines lasting lyfe tindure No no I doo abandon now my former fonde conceit And eke the sparkes of black dispaire I will extinguishe strayt For tyll those eyes doo plainely sée or els those eares doo heare Disdainful lookes or scornful woords such fittes shall not me deare Tyll then though some presuming there be of fained loue From chosen choyse â— harts desire no passion shall me moue By this the blustring blast is blown that so amazd the mynde And Delus from Orient seas doth breath a pleasant winde The darksome clouds are drowned now that trobled earst the ayre And hope with beames of ioyful light turnes stormes to wethâ—r fayre But sleape that doth disdaine to see an other to possesse â—he â—lace which he by right should kéepe â—oth seeke for to redresse This iniurie and calles foorth with his mates in his affayres That drowsy dreame slumber sad and with his friendly prayers Doth
deuise thus ended hath his argumentes eche one He listesâ— no longer to consult in hast he is forth gone The Princes court wher no man is more welcomer then he As well vnto Ieneuora as to the Ladies frée And ther like to his wonted guile he dayly doth discourse Of histories or riddels els he learnes to tel by course Thus leaue I him that showes a face of perfect blisse and ioye Though now then amidst disportes dispayre doth him annoy And to the Duke I must agayne my solom verse returne That seeks vnhappy man eche way to cause the straunger mourne THough Polinesso wel had wayde vnto what small effect His former fond and lewd denise by yll luck was direct Though he perceiud how contrary eche point therof did proue And that no sight of gem ne talke could oughâ— the straunger moue Yet could he not slack lenger time inforst by ielousie But néeds he must deuise of newe some other policie Wherfore when that Ariodant was gone vnto the court He leaues his home and thether to in hast be doth resort Wher like vnto his former wont he feedes his doting eye With Princes lookes takes therat a great felicitie And she agayn that knew right wel the skill of curtesie Doth friendly intertaine the Duke into her company But furdest from her honest hart I dare avowe was loue To him whose grauer yéeres should shunne such youthfull toyes to moue This aged amorous syre I say thus caught in Cupides nâ—t Cannot digest this ielousie which be in straunger set But rather by the oft repayre of yonge Ariodant New coaâ—s ar put to burning flâ—mes that fire did not want Therfore wheÌ„ grief had long opprest this careful Duke his mynde In counsell to Ariodant he thus doth spend his wynde If that quoth he Ariodant I thought my words would take More surer ground within thy minâ— then when I laâ—â—ly spake To thee of this Ieneuora I would once more assay To turn thy youthful head from that that workes thy nown decay I see with sighes mark with mone for so doth friendship moâ—â— That nether talke ne sight of ring can chaunge thée from this loue I sée I sée Ariodant thou hast to good conceit And dost self wil to much inbrasâ— â— that workes thine own disceit I sée how lightly thou regardst that I tould late to thee I sée thou scornst my sage aduise and takst me false to be Els wouldst thou not so sodenlie forget that mought haue taught Thy skilles youth to shun the bayte that hath thee captiue caught But sith thus farre I haue assaid to moue thee to beleue That neither gifts ne lookes ne talk can ought thy Lady meue I will to quite my self of troth faith vnfaind to thee Once more attempt a greter charge then thou before didst see Thou knowst at court within thrée dayes is kept a solom feast When eche to honour more to same with brauest geare are drest Then will the Princes decked bee with â—obes of shining gold And none so rich as she that day ne goodlier to behold If then twixt ninâ— and ten at night thou will repayre with mee Unto a secret place when I a signe shall geue to thée Thy self shalt sée Ieneuora and me Duke Polinesse Imbrasing eche and eithers corpse in others armes to presse So that at sight hereof thou wilt geue place vnto my loue And leaue these fickell fantasies that youthfulnesse doth moue The Duke thus staies his filed tongue and then Ariodant This answere made vnto his tale that forst senses want Shew thisâ— my Lord then qd he I yeld to your desire As one that is 〈◊〉 â—our commaund 〈◊〉 what you list require â—o here my hand qd Polinesse I sweare by this my Grace To show thée what I promised at â—etted time and place But as to ease thée of thy griefe I doo that reason nould So as tâ—ou art a gentilman doo â—ot my tale vnfould The strauÌ„ger grauÌ„ts vows therto and thus they two depart Ariodant to chamber close and Duke as likes his hart But wheÌ„ this thrise vnhappy wight this carefull wretched man Was come vnto his mourning den he doth begin to scan Upon this false and forged tale and despratly doth teare His trembling flesh rendes all that that he that day did weare His head he smites with bended fist his feete he stampes on ground His holow sighes groning sobbes from hart to skies resound Now groueling on the ground he crawles and scrapeth with his nayles The earth and now againe him selfe his hasty hand assailes Now chokt with grief he specheles lies as one bereud of breth And now to ende this furious fittes he cries thus after death Oh death quoth he the ende of cares if euer thou didst graunt Unto a wofull wretches will that waylings dâ—th not want If euer thou didst yelde vnto a haples mysers hest Or if vnto the vexâ—d corse thou euer yeldest rest graunt now to me vnhappiest slaue whose panges of pining payne Is more then natures kyndly course can brooke or els susteine A fatall push at last for all aâ—d ende oh death this care Dispatch this lothsome lingryng life geue me this only share With fatal dart oh gentill death let liuely bloud depart By streames out of this carcas vile and slyse this trembling hart Thou dolefull bel ring out at last my last deperting knil Or lyuing els close me in graue my mouth with earth do fill But vnto her that causer is of this my mortall strife Oh death geue crooked aged limmes with lothsome lingring lyfe For she it was that straunged me from pleasant Italy And forst me like a banisht wight to lyue in straunge countâ—â—e She she berevd from me my blisse she brought to me this care She hath restraynd from me my ioy and cauâ—ht me in the snare Her smiling lookes her frendly â—tile and eke her vowed truth Hath brought me in this misery alas the more my ruth Oh hart more hard than Adamant oh false dissembling tongue Oh painted face whose worthinessâ— fame so far of hath â—unge False Greseids gain be thy reward that art more false then she And worthier a thousand fould a Leper for to be My carefull dead cannot deuise lyke plagues for thy desert Ne yet my tongue declare the halfe of thy deserued smart When first these wretched eyes of myue did see that craâ—tie corse And when this head did so beleue thy lines of faithles force Would God this hand had â—earst this hart with caruing vlaudie knife Or els that Lions tearing â—awes had rid me of my life Oh haples wretch Ariodant that by the heauens consent Muâ—t work thyne own vnhappines through lot â—some loues torment Oâ— abiect slaue whose fortune is to fall into her hand That neither knows her self ne yet â— a friend doth vnderstand Thrise happy hadst thou ben when that to loue thou gauest thy mynde That nature had closd vp thyne eares and that thou hadst ben blinde